


The Breakfast Club

by TheReluctantWriter



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (br)otp, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantWriter/pseuds/TheReluctantWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is friendship and feelings and alarming portion sizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Breakfast Club

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a visit to Friendly's with Bleeding_Rust, which caused us to wonder what the boys would think of modern American portion sizes. Beyond that I kind of forgot to give it a plot and I guess it's just another story about Bucky getting better, a theme that I never seem to tire of. Stucky is both my OTP and BROTP, so the degree of shippiness is entirely up to the reader. (Warning: some salty language ahoy.)

_Ugh. Junk mail_.

Steve shuffled through the stack of envelopes and glossy booklets with distaste. People had always been shoving products and services in the faces of the public at every opportunity, but this was getting ridiculous. He tossed aside two catalogues that no one in the tower had ordered, a pamphlet offering to save his immortal soul from the Roaring Fires of Eternal Damnation, a letter from a suspicious looking “carpet cleaner,” and a flimsy envelope announcing that YOU, STEVE ROGERS, HAVE WON THE LOTTERY!!! He snorted loudly upon reaching the last one. No doubt contrary to Tony’s dearest hopes, he was not naïve enough to fall for that particular scam.

Steve was about to dump the whole mess into the recycling bin when the red-and-white corner of a coupon booklet caught his eye. He pulled it out, smiled suddenly, and strode off down the hall.  
___________________

“Hey Buck, get up!” Steve hollered. “We’re going out for breakfast!” He raised a hand to pound on the door, then thought better of it. Bucky still wasn’t reacting well to unexpected crashing and banging noises. Steve decided to stick with more good old-fashioned shouting.

“ _Mmmmmrrrrrgggh. Nrrrrrrr_ ,” said Bucky, eventually.

“Oh come on, man. I’ve been up for hours.”

“Mmmpphh. I know you have, Steve. That’s because you’re _fucking crazy_.”

Steve laughed, opened the door, and sat down heavily on the side of the bed.

“Is something on fire?” Bucky muttered into his pillow.

“Nope! Better!”

Bucky snorted and rolled over. “Alright, what’s up then?” he asked sleepily.

“Look!” Steve said cheerfully, waving the coupon in his friend’s face. “Half off pancakes at Friendly’s, Buck!”

Bucky grinned blearily and reached out to study the paper more closely. “Oh man, those are still around? Used to go there all the time when I was visiting...ah...” he closed his eyes, frowning a little in concentration. “...my aunt! Yeah, my aunt. I was actually pretty sad when they closed during the war. Remember that time I brought you along...?”

“For your birthday? Hell yes, I remember. I’ve never seen anyone eat that much ice cream in my life.” He smiled crookedly at the memory. “Let’s go now! I can’t believe that placed survived. And we survived. I mean, it’s a whole other _century_ now, Buck. It just seems right, you know?”

He looked very serious about it. Bucky smiled, thinking that he had never known anybody quite as fundamentally god damned _earnest_ as Steve Rogers. “Alright, then. Let’s go get some pancakes.”  
___________________

“Jesus Christ,” said Bucky reverently.

He was staring down at the plate that had just been placed in front of him, which was all but buried under a Mt. Olympus-esque stack of pancakes.

“Language, Bucky,” said Steve absently, frowning at his own breakfast.

“Are you sure this is what we ordered? For what, $3 each?”

Just then their waitress doubled back, balancing a large plate of bacon and somebody else’s scrambled eggs against her ample bosom. 

“Here you are, boys!” she chirped, sliding the bacon platter into a precarious position at the edge of the table. “Would you like some more coffee?”

“Um.” said Steve. “No, thank you, I think we’re all set for now.”

She bustled off to the next table, and Steve frowned at his food again. “Remember that one time behind the lines in the woods in Germany?”

“Hwhich tmm?” said Bucky, through a mouthful of pancakes.

“The time we were so hungry that we ate a squirrel that Pinky caught with his bare hands.”

Bucky swallowed and cringed. “Ah. Yes. I think I do, now that you mention it. I’ve probably still got some fur in my teeth.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah. That one. I just...jeez, this probably would have fed our entire unit for a day at least. It seems kind of...unhealthy. Well, for civilians with normal metabolisms, anyway,” he added, noting the efficiency with which food was disappearing into Bucky’s mouth.

“Meh,” said Bucky, reaching for the bacon. “I’m okay with it at the moment.”

Steve smiled in spite of himself, picked up his fork, and prepared for battle.  
___________________

Forty-five minutes later they were sprawled on the grass in a nearby park, half-dozing in the throes of their first proper pancake coma since 1941.

“I can’t decide if that was the best idea I’ve ever had or the worst,” Steve finally said with effort. Bucky smiled lazily.

“Mmm. Well, as long as you don’t want to go take a second shot at the Cyclone just now...”

Steve made a small gagging sound, and Bucky chuckled. They lay there in companionable silence for another minute or so.

“You know, I’ve only had a few bad dreams lately,” said Bucky suddenly. Steve opened his eyes and turned to look at his friend.

“Really?”

“Mhm. And I knew where I was right away when I woke up this morning. Even with you yelling at me.” He paused, and glanced sideways at Steve. “But seriously, you might want to bring your shield next time you try that. I cannot be held responsible for any potentially violent acts committed by the Winter Soldier in a state of semi-consciousness.”

Steve smiled a little sadly, recognizing the ‘kidding but not really’ voice that Bucky used all too often lately. “But I didn’t need it this morning.”

“Guess not.”

There was another moment of quiet between them, broken only by the busy sounds of the street and an enthusiastic “DUUUUDE, THAT WAS _SICK_!” from an ultimate Frisbee player down the block.

Bucky grinned broadly at that. “Good call on breakfast,” he said abruptly, in what seemed like a complete change of topic.

“It seemed appropriate.”

“Sure, and...” Bucky swallowed hard, throat working uncomfortably. “And after all that...of what happened, I will never stop appreciating every moment of freedom I have. Like the freedom to do things like eat too much and then lie in the park with my best friend,” he said earnestly. “And to do them as myself. I guess it's...the little things, you know?"

Steve turned to look at his friend again, this time through slightly watery eyes. The sleeve of Bucky's hoodie had slid up a little, exposing just an inch of his metal wrist. It was oddly beautiful in the midmorning sunlight.

“It’s like we’re finally coming home from the war together,” Steve managed.

“We are,” Bucky said softly, and smiled.

One more moment of thoughtful, slightly tearful silence later, Bucky spoke up again.

"Christ, Steve," he said. "I'm turning into you. I just read deep meaning into breakfast food."

"What?"

"Nothing."

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading, and please point out any typos I missed!


End file.
